


The Case Of Innuendoes

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bottom John, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-05-31 11:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15118922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sherlock and John dress up, have to go to a club, and deal with a detective inspector that seems very intent on flirting with John.





	The Case Of Innuendoes

Sherlock heard John’s sprinting footsteps before he saw him. He burst through the door, phone to his ear. His mouth was open as if he was going to say something but, seeing Sherlock alive and well, he closed it. He looked to the left corner and saw Mycroft. 

“Good morning, John,” Mycroft said in his proud manner. 

“Mycroft, I...” John looked back at Sherlock. “You said it was urgent,” he said. 

Sherlock nodded and said, “Oh yes. I just said that so you would be quick.”

John looked offended for a moment, then realized there was no point in arguing and looked back at Mycroft. “What happened?”

{*}

Sherlock barely listened as Mycroft explained the case to John. He’d already heard his explanation and read his file on it. 

“It’s a case of a murder framed as a suicide. The victim is Patrick Bell. He was found dead in his office, shot through the head. The gun was found in his left hand."

John flipped through the file. "Was he left handed?" he asked.

Sherlock smirked. There was his clever boy. 

"Yes," Mycroft said. "Which is why Scotland Yard cannot come up with any other solution other than suicide."

John closed the file. "So," he said. "What are we to do about it?"

Mycroft gestured between him and Sherlock. "You two are to go to Soho and track down the main suspect," He explained. "His name is Mark Black. He and Patrick were step-brothers who supposedly couldn't stand each other."

John chuckled. "Reminds me a bit of two other brothers I know," he said.

Mycroft glared while Sherlock stifled a laugh. He always did love when John was smart, especially to Mycroft. It took his brother down from his "minor" position. 

"You'll go undercover for this case so I had Anthea choose disguises for you," Mycroft said.

John leaned over to look at Sherlock. "Did you take it?" He asked.

"Obviously," Sherlock said. 

John nodded. He looked back at Mycroft. "Will you be escorting us or is your little brother grown up enough to go by himself?"

Mycroft sneered but bid John farewell. "Do be careful, Sherlock," He said before leaving.

"We're going to a club?" John asked.

"According to Mycroft, yes," Sherlock said. 

John huffed. "I hate clubs," He complained. 

Sherlock stared at John curiously. "Why? It seems a man of your league would enjoy going to a club," He said.

John looked over at Sherlock. "A man of my league? What's that mean?" He asked.

Sherlock nearly blushed. "Most men enjoy going to clubs because they can easily pick up women that way," He said.

"And you think I want to go for easy women?" John asked.

Jesus, Sherlock was dying. "No. It's just statistics," He said.

John nodded. "The numbers, right." So he believed Sherlock's cover. Good. Excellent. 

After both men had packed, Sherlock and John carried their cases down the steps and outside. John hailed a cab and the pair clambered inside.

"Soho please," Sherlock told the cabbie. 

The trip wasn't unbearable. It was mostly John asking questions about Soho and Sherlock thinking silently. Every so often, Sherlock would mutter a syllable while he thought, just so John knew he was alive.

Two police cars were parked in front of the hotel Mycroft had booked for John and Sherlock. Sherlock searched the cars for Lestrade but didn't see him. A young man approached them. "Where's Lestrade?" He barked.

"He's on a different case," the man said. "I'm the detective inspector," He said, stretching out a hand to the detective. Sherlock shook it. "You must be Mr. Holmes, eh?" He asked.

"Obviously," Sherlock said, not really listening.

The inspector nodded and looked at John. "Hello. I'm Detective Inspector Sloan. You can refer to me as Ewan," He said. 

John nodded. "John Watson," He said.

Ewan chuckled. "Lestrade told me about you," He said. John looked defensive for a moment. "Didn't tell me you were quite so dashing though."

Sherlock wanted to punch Ewan right in his perfect teeth. John was his flatmate, not Ewan's. Sherlock had to protect him, had to rescue him. 

Luckily, or maybe not so luckily in Sherlock's case, John was saved by Donovan. "Sorry, Ewan. John here has been arguing that he's not gay for the past three years," She said.

Sherlock felt moronic for thinking he could somehow "rescue" John. John didn't need saving. John wasn't a damsel in distress or Disney princess. He looked back at the group to see John pushing past Ewan to get to Sherlock. Sherlock smiled happily as he saw John's small body try and get to Sherlock. He turned so John wouldn't see.

John walked to Sherlock and sighed. "We should find our rooms," He said. Sherlock nodded and followed John inside. He shot Ewan a sly look from the corner of his eye as he followed John. 

"Our rooms are right next to each other," John said. "We should unpack and call Mycroft to tell him we've arrived."

Sherlock agreed and used the elevator to the fourth floor. He and John seperated and entered their own rooms.

Sherlock saw his costume as he entered. There was Anthea's letter with the costume.  _For undercover work._ Sherlock scoffed and crumpled the note. He examined his costume. It consisted of tight jeans and a white shirt paired with a leather jacket that would fit snugly around Sherlock. He dressed and looked at himself through the mirror. The jacket reminded him of being a teenager and riding a motorcycle. He smirked until he heard a knock at his door. "Come in," He said.

John strode in, dressed in his costume. Sherlock nearly doubled over. John was wearing the shortest pair of shorts he'd ever seen. Sherlock looked away in order to prevent getting aroused. 

"How's it look?" John asked. 

Sherlock swallowed and looked back at him. Jesus, he was gorgeous. "Fine," He said. 

John tugged on his shirt, only succeeding on turning Sherlock on more. "I wish it was a bit longer. It might get cold tonight."

 _I'll keep you warm_ , Sherlock thought but shook it away as soon as he thought it.  "You could bring a jacket," He suggested. 

John shrugged. "I'll be fine."

Sherlock nodded. "Well then, we should go then. It's nearly 9:30. The club will be opening soon," He said. Sherlock nearly pushed John out of the room and to the elevator. 

Ewan was waiting outside the club when Sherlock and John arrived. "Hiya boys," He greeted.

Sherlock mentally groaned. Why wasn't this guy leaving them alone?

"Hi Ewan. Didn't know you'd be joining us," John said. Sherlock noticed he became very conscious of his body as Ewan approached them.

"Yes. I never miss a chance to chase after a suspect. The adrenaline, the excitement, ah. It's all so fun, eh?"

Sherlock was grinding his teeth together so roughly that he was surprised they weren't breaking. "Let's go," He said, maybe a little too strictly. 

John went inside first. Sherlock felt his blood boil as Ewan didn't even try to hide the fact that he was checking out John's arse. _His_ John. He cut off Ewan as they entered the club.

Sherlock followed John to the bar. Ewan stood beside them. "Do you guys want a drink?" He asked. "On me."

"I'll take a whiskey," John said.

"Martini," Sherlock grumbled. 

Ewan ordered the drinks, a beer for himself, and passed the drinks out. "And a whiskey for the Captain," He said, smirking. John accepted the drink and took a sip before looking back out at the crowd. "And a Martini for the famous detective," He said, passing the glass to Sherlock. 

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making Sherlock's heart pound. "This night better not be a long one,” He said. “I just want to go back to the hotel.”

 “And do what exactly?” Ewan flirted. 

Fury festered in Sherlock, and he bit his bottom lip. Ewan was being highly unprofessional. There was nothing Sherlock wanted more than for John to reject Ewan publicly. 

John sipped his whiskey before answering, allowing the tension to build. “Change into something more comfortable,” He said. 

That certainly introduced a whole new series of questions to Ewan but he only grinned and sipped his beer.

Sherlock looked away from John, temper gradually growing. Just who did Ewan think he was? And who did he think John was? John wasn't a twink looking to be fucked. Sherlock huffed and drank his Martini. He scanned the crowd until he spotted a man with pierced ears and long, black hair; the spitting image of Mark Black. He tapped John’s shoulder and pointed at the man. 

John set his whiskey down and turned to inform Ewan but saw he was already off running. 

“Police!” Ewan shouted, pulling out his badge. 

Mark saw the detective inspector and ran for the exit.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and took charge. "This way, John!" He threw over his shoulder. 

John followed closely behind Sherlock, eventually passing and leading him to the doors. Just as Mark reached the doors, John jumped at him. They went tumbling outside. Sherlock followed them outside into the dark night. John had Mark pinned to the ground. Ewan pulled his handcuffs from his belt. "Mark Black, you're under arrest for the murder of Patrick-"

"Just shut up and cuff me already," Mark spat. 

Ewan handcuffed Mark and radioed his station. He turned back to Sherlock and John. "Well done boys. Especially you Sherlock. Finding Mark out in that crowd. Great observation skills," He said.

 _He was in plain sight_ , Sherlock thought. He then remembered how Ewan had only been checking out John and took the compliment.

Ewan smiled at John. "And great job actually capturing the suspect," He said.

John smiled humbly. "Thank you."

Ewan took a step towards John. Sherlock felt his protective instincts over John kick in. He watched angrily as Ewan looked down at John with a confident smirk. "Can I buy you a drink as celebration?" He asked.

John shook his head. "I think I might just go back to my hotel."

"Then I can bring some whiskey over," Ewan insisted.

John shook his head. "No thank you Ewan. I think I'll just go straight to sleep."

Ewan shrugged. "Okay. But if you get lonely, phone me and I'll come over with a bottle," He said.

John nodded and watched as Ewan swaggered off to his car. 

Sherlock felt his anger subside as Ewan walked away. John turned to him. "Are you coming too or will you be staying?" He asked.

"I'm coming," Sherlock said, finally tearing his angry eyes off Ewan's back. 

John looked up at him. "You don't like him, do you?" He asked.

Sherlock shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. "What does it matter, he won't be working with us anymore," He said.

John chuckled.

"What?" Sherlock demanded.

"Nothing. It's just... you get so jealous."

Jealous? Sherlock? "I'm not jealous," Sherlock grumbled.

John looked up at Sherlock with disbelieving eyes. "Then why did you glare every time he spoke to me?" 

"Why would I be jealous if he was attracted to you? Even by your standards, John that doesn't make any-"

Sherlock was cut off by John's lips. It was a soft kiss, just a gentle press but it made Sherlock shut up. John pulled away and smiled. "That's what I thought," He said.

Sherlock barely tasted John but it was still enough to get him addicted. John had tasted just like happiness, with the aftertaste of bliss. Sherlock craved it with only one dose. He grabbed John's face and kissed him passionately. John melted into the kiss and Sherlock slid his tongue in John's mouth. 

John pulled away to breath. Sherlock took the opportunity to pull him to the alleyway. Sherlock pushed John against the wall and kissed him, passionate as ever. John moaned as Sherlock pressed his lower body against him. "Do you want me John?" He asked.

John nodded. "Oh god yes Sherlock. I've wanted you for so goddamn long," He said.

Sherlock smiled at John's words. He kissed him again and ground himself on John.

John moaned at the touch. He took hold of Sherlock's jacket and slid it off. He dropped the jacket to the floor and ran his fingers up Sherlock's neck to his curls. He tugged, which resulted in an erotic moan from Sherlock. 

Sherlock tore John's shirt off. He cupped his pecks and slowly took one of John's nipples in his mouth. 

"Sherlock!" John cried at the tongue running over his left nipple.

Sherlock gave a little suck, feeling John shake afterwards. He pulled off and kissed the center of John's chest. He then moved to John's other nipple and began to lick. 

John pushed Sherlock's head away. "Sherlock, let me, let me," He stammered. Sherlock cupped John's face and brought his eyes to his. "Let me show you what my tongue can do," John said. 

Sherlock nodded. Almost immediately, John dropped to his knees and unzipped Sherlock's jeans. He let a hot breath soak into Sherlock's pants. John pulled Sherlock's pants down far enough so his erection could flop out. He took little time to admire Sherlock's erection before taking the head into his mouth. 

Sherlock gasped and looked down at John. "Is this your first time giving a blowjob?" He asked.

John shook his head. "There was a boy at Uni," He said.

Sherlock nodded. "Show me all the little tricks you learned at Uni," He said, pushing just a bit of himself into John.

John smirked and took in another inch of Sherlock. He let his tongue roll over Sherlock before swallowing down more of him. It only took John three swallows to have all of Sherlock in his mouth.

Sherlock groaned at the wetness around his cock. As John continued to suck and lick him, his mind went to a euphoric place. His mind suddenly became all black and white as John began to hum around his cock while still sucking. Sherlock gasped at the vibrations around him. He caved in a little, causing his cock to push down John's throat. Sherlock tried to quickly pull himself out but John only encouraged Sherlock by pushing on his rear, making him go even deeper. John didn't seem to have a gag reflex. That was good news for Sherlock.

"The humming John," Sherlock gasped as the vibrations resumed. 

John smirked up at him. He slowly slipped away from Sherlock, his cock slipping from his mouth. He stood again and let his hands tug at Sherlock's shirt. "You're not going to keep this on forever, are you?"

In less than a second, Sherlock was shirtless and had John pinned to the wall again. They were kissing with such desperation that if a man walked by, he would think neither of them had gotten any forever. 

John was rubbing against Sherlock's freed erection. The denim was causing for quite a sensation. Precum pooled onto Sherlock's stomach from his cock. Sherlock was kicking his jeans off. His pants were soaked from precum and he pushed them down to his ankles. Sherlock snaked a hand down John's shorts, squeezing his bum. 

"Oh, Sherlock," John moaned. "Take me please."

"Yes sir," Sherlock growled before whipping John around and shoving him against the wall. He ripped his shorts and pants off, tossing them onto the other clothes. Sherlock snuggled his erection between John's cheeks. John moaned and clawed at the wall. Sherlock breathed in John's shampoo as he slowly found John's hole and prepared to enter him. 

John mumbled incoherent curses as Sherlock squeezed inside him. "fuc.... shit..... just like that.... Sherlock!" John cried as the detective began thrusting without warning. 

Sherlock felt John's back press against his chest in an effort to get close as possible. Sherlock pushed against his back with each thrust, their sweaty bodies slick and hot against each other.

"Oh Sherlock. Harder!" John ordered. 

"Mmm John. You're so eager to come. Should I make you?" Sherlock asked. John nodded, body shuddering in pleasure as Sherlock's cock penetrated his prostate. "Hmm, maybe I'll keep you like this for ten more minutes. Just to feel you," Sherlock said.

Ten minutes would have passed like lightning in their state but to them at that moment, it seemed like ages.

"Sherlock, please. Now, now, now," John pleaded. 

Sherlock chuckled darkly. "Okay. But only because you were so good with your tongue," He said. He reached around John and took hold of his throbbing erection. He stroked him and continued to thrust and pound into John, each thrust making John shudder and convulse in pleasure. John wrapped his hand around Sherlock's neck for support.

Sherlock pushed forwards and John's hands flew up to stop him from colliding face first with the bricks. His body rocked as Sherlock pounded into him.

" _Oh, oh, yes Sherlock, fuck, please, yes, yes, OH GOD! SHERLOCK I'M COMING!_ " John yowled as his orgasm washed over him. Spurts of semen shot from his erection and painted his stomach and covered Sherlock's fingers. He panted and leaned back against Sherlock for support as his body collapsed. 

Hot, sticky semen coated Sherlock's fingers. Sherlock pumped John through his orgasm, milking out every ounce of semen from him.  He felt his own orgasm nearing and pounded into John for a final time. He came in John, semen filling him. He sighed and rested his head on John's shoulder. 

"That was amazing," John said.

Sherlock smiled. He kissed John's earlobe and cuddled against him. "Perhaps we should go back," He said.

John nodded and proceeded to get dressed. He pulled his shirt over his messed up hair. He smiled at Sherlock, who'd also gotten dressed. They walked out of the alley, hand in hand. They spotted two young men gaping at them. One of them shouted, "You lucky wanker!" to John.

John chuckled and turned back to Sherlock. "Are you gonna get jealous over them too?" He teased.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

They returned to the hotel and, let's just say, Mycroft had one hell of a discussion with the manager for noise complaints.


End file.
